The Seaborn Filibuster
by quentin7
Summary: Sam has come to the breaking point in ignoring his feelings about Josh. JS slash.


Disclaimer: I didn't create Sam only to give him the shaft in season three. I also didn't create Josh. I only wish I could take responsibility for making them so damn handsome.

Rating: PG-13 – also note that this is a SLASH romance (J/S)

Note: I was watching "The Stackhouse Filibuster" on DVD, lest ye wonder why I'm stealing from such an old episode. Please review—I gotta know how my slash is coming along, and I am, as always, beta-less.

The Seaborn Filibuster

It was inside his head. Day in, day out. It wrapped itself around his mind during meetings, all but drowning out the world. It made him break out into a cold sweat during those late nights at work when he got tired enough to let his guard down. Sam often awakened to sore limbs and a growling stomach, no doubt because he'd been anxious even in his sleep. But this day, like always, he tucked it neatly away, closing the lid on his heart with difficulty. But it was closed.

Of course, that was at 6:30 a.m.

Then came the filibuster. Sam felt the same torture that Stackhouse's senate comrades did. He spent long hours in the mess, so desperate—and he supposed that was really the only word for it now—to avoid what he didn't want to deal with that he dealt with his father. Or at least he tried, devoting whole minutes at a time to recalling his father's voice reading him Dickens, allotting entire trains of thought to how he would find a way to forgive him. But then it would come back, slowly but surely, like a knock, a physical kick of adrenaline inside his head. Why can't you? it said. Why won't you?

So he flirted with CJ and let himself sink into David Copperfield, then into the story of grandfathers and love and it was all very absorbing, that new use for his adrenaline as he whizzed like a pin ball from one office to the next, trying to help save Stackhouse. Then when Stackhouse finally sat down, when that old man with tears in his eyes sat down and had his glass of water, something broke for him. Josh was hugging everybody, and Sam knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if Josh hugged him now, it would physically hurt him to not do what he really wanted to do.

So he did what he wasn't really prone to do: he ran.

Literally, he made his way down to the mess again, that quiet dark corner. Lord only knew what he would say to anybody about where he had gone or why. He just hoped for some time to make the lid fit tighter on his heart. So he thought about Donna, this wonderful person whose very presence was a threat to him. After watching her all night—she had figured out Stackhouse's secret—he could understand how she'd talked her way into Josh's office that day during the campaign. My God, he thought, not that she'd have to talk at all to get Josh to melt into a helpless, lovesick fool if she wanted to.

The question was did she want to? She seemed charmed enough by him, and they had an easy yet tense banter. But she always seemed a little too annoyed by all the things that made Sam want to do things he'd quite frankly never thought about doing with another man.

"I mean, that's really it," he said out loud. "There is no way he's ever thought…"

Sam turned on the TV, listening for a moment as another senator read aloud statistics about autism, and the camera cut at intervals to Stackhouse again, looking tired but amazed.

"He should be," Sam said.

"He should be what?" It was Josh, his face still hidden in shadows. Sam's heart slammed against the inside of his chest, and that pulse moved into his throat and his gut. Every muscle in Sam's body tensed up as he stared at the man he always fought staring at. And he saw what he always saw: this self-assurance masking doubt masking a bigger heart than anybody knew. He willed himself to look away from that small V of skin at Josh's collar, open now because he had taken off his tie.

Josh took the seat across from him and turned the TV down to a quiet murmur.

"What are you doing down here, Sam?"

"The thing with my father…"

"Oh," he said. "Oh. Do you want me to…?"  
"No. No, no. I could probably use the company."

"You sure?"

Sam was sure that having Josh alone in a room was the last thing he needed in his life at that moment. Maybe some space, he told himself for the hundredth time. Space would do it. Space or a woman. Because there had been—would be—no other man. At least he couldn't imagine it. Space. But he said, "Stay."

"Hey, were you talking to yourself just then?"

"Not really."

"Then it's worse than I thought. The TV doesn't talk back. You do know that."

Sam smiled wearily and shook his head. "Do you think you really get me?"

"Hmm?" Josh turned his head back from the TV.

"We've known each other for a very long time, you and I. Do you think you've been around me long enough to use that experience and the laws of probability to predict my behavior, or do you think you really know me?"

"I don't see the difference."

"I thought I knew my father. But I really knew what I'd always seen, which is mostly my father, but not really all of him. This huge, catastrophic chunk of him wasn't even on my radar."

"That really doesn't change him. Having a mistress…"

"But it does. It was his love, and I didn't know a thing about it. Because I didn't guess, and because he never told me."

"I don't know, Sam. But I think I know you."

"Mmm hmm."

"What's wrong? Really."

"I have something to tell someone, and it's huge. I don't know if I can do it."

"Is it Ainsley? Oh my God, I think she knows, Sam. I think the President knows."

"Ainsley? Oh, no. A Republican, Josh?"

"I think the lady—that would be you—doth protest too much. And you know what that means."

Suddenly Sam was angry that Josh was being so flippant with him, although he knew Josh had no reason to know he was so serious. So he spat out, "I do not have a secret desire to be a Republican, Josh."

Josh looked confused, but he continued on in a jovial tone. "Woah, buddy. I just meant that Ainsley's cute, and all your denials are…" As he trailed off, he shook his head and said, "Okay, so I'm gonna leave you alone for a while."

"Josh," Sam said, sighing.

Josh stood and smiled. "I'm in way too good a mood to try and bring you out of your funk."

"Josh," he said, and he grabbed his hand, pulling him back. Josh sat down again, this time the easy smile had left his face, replaced by a forced smile.

The talk was even more forced. "So it's not Ainsley?"

"How do you even know it's about anything like that?"

"Come on, Sam. You don't get nervous about anything except the state of the union and a woman's phone number in your pocket. Of course, if I had your history of naiveté about call girls, I'd be nervous too."

"It's a little more complicated than some girl."

Josh's forced smiles left his face and his eyes were warm and full of concern. "Okay. What is it?"

Sam nodded at the screen. "I feel like I'm in my own little filibuster here, and not a soul knows how badly I need to hear a question."

Josh's face was impossible to read although Sam felt he knew him even better than he sometimes knew himself. Sam looked down at his hands, unable to meet Josh's gaze. He was sure if he looked into his eyes, Josh would know.

Then Josh asked him, "Do you love me?"

Sam's heart slammed inside his chest again, but then he knew what Josh meant. Shutting up his heart again, he laughed miserably at himself, covering his anguish with a nervous cough. "You're my best friend—"

Josh's face began to change, and he shouted, "Jesus Christ, Sam. No. I know that. You know that. That's not what I'm asking you."

"What are you—"

Josh's voice broke when he asked, "Do you want me?"

Sam stood, stunned, unable to speak. Josh reached out his hand, and Sam pulled away from him, still standing, still silent. He could not believe the hesitancy in Josh's voice, the obvious worry over the answer to that question. He also couldn't really tell what Josh was thinking. Why was he scared?

"Mr. Seaborn, may I pose a few questions to you?"

Sam's voice came out choked. "Yes."

"I think it's time you sit down and rest, Sam." As Sam sat down, Josh stood and begin to pace for a moment. When he stopped, he looked straight at Sam, a look so close to anger Sam almost couldn't stand it, so he looked away again, until Josh called his name. "Sam, please."

Josh began to fidget—that completely unconscious wiggling he did when he was very nervous, which took almost an act of God. If Josh was scared enough to show it, Sam knew it really did take something pretty powerful.

Josh's wide eyes darted around the room as he began talking: "Okay. Okay. Question one. Did you know I'm not in love with Donna? Did you know she's a wonderful girl and under different circumstances, I'd make a fool out of myself to get her?" Josh lowered his head and took a deep breath, lacing his shaking hands together at the nape of his neck.

When he looked up, he looked lost, but when he spoke, it was the Josh that left the West Wing to go to the hill. No, Sam corrected himself. This is not the self-righteous look, this is the serious look of a man who is completely unsure of gaining any ground, yet he walks and talks with bluster anyway.

Sam realized he was holding his breath, waiting for Josh to speak again. Josh said, "Did you know I have always considered myself to be a confidently heterosexual man, even after I met you? I stood impervious to the most beautiful man in the world for years, and you know why? Because he was my friend." Josh's voice was beginning to break, so he started talking quickly. "Because I knew he had never thought of what it must be like to touch me the way I wanted him to, and I was content for things to stay that way. Okay, not so much content." He chuckled and shook his head. "God, Sam, I think really it's because I'm a coward. A coward and an idiot."

He continued, "Do you know how I feel when I see you? I think you do. Do you know why I'm going to stop asking questions now?"

"No. Why?"

"If this filibuster is what I think it is, it's over. Come here," he said. Without feeling his legs moving, Sam was on his feet and in Josh's arms, being kissed so softly, yet he almost couldn't breathe. The warmth traveled all the way down to his toes.

"How did you know?" Sam asked him, his lips brushing over the warm, salty skin under Josh's ear.

"I didn't."

"But how…?"

Josh rubbed the back of Sam's neck slowly, finally answering in a low, sensual tone, his lips touching Sam's ear, "I think this means I really do know you."

His heart flipped once again inside his chest, and he let it flip as something deep down practically sang to see and feel Josh, to know that Josh wanted to turn him on. But Sam needed to hear the words.

He asked, "And you want me?"

"Oh, yes. I don't know how that works or what that means yet, but I do want you."

"We should have been doing this a long time ago."

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to?"

"No."

"Me either," he said, grinning sheepishly. "So it's your fault."

Sam feigned indignation, pulling away from him. "It's my fault that you didn't tell me how you felt sooner?"

Josh glanced down at his own body and smirked. "No. You're right. It's my fault for being so irresistible."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but if you don't stop being smug and egotistical, I might rip off your clothes right here."

Josh let out a quick breath and grinned wickedly. He took Sam's hands in his and said, "I knew I had you. I knew when you grabbed my hand."

"You did not."

"Don't take the wind out of my egotism. It's all I have to charm you."

"You thought I was a fan of the Lyman charm?"  
"Well, something made you start glowing."

"See, this glowing…this glowing is amazement."

"Amazement at me?"

"God, yes. But also…and don't tell me I'm corny, but…amazement at myself."

"Well, you are pretty damn amazing."

With that, Josh pressed Sam into the wall and kissed him so long that neither one heard the sound of Howard Stackhouse opening the door to the senate chambers.


End file.
